Untitled vampire story

preliminary draft of a story that came to me last night.

As night fell on the village of Tench, folk used to claim the were-kin and vampires roamed freely, looking for sport and blood. The rest of the world had accepted the were-kin packs and the vampire clans, yet in the mountainous regions of the world, the people still refused to step outside on a full moon, fully expecting any who did would be found torn to shreds or never found.

It was dark in the village, with the only light coming from the blacksmiths, a large building which had been doing less and less trade in the last decade. The interminable wars which ravaged the land were a part of the lack of trade, but also the remoteness of the village. The horses would need shoeing, a new plough might be needed from time to time, but there was little need for the smiths, especially in such a large smithy.

The two men who owned and ran the smithy were polar opposites; the smith was a tall, broad-shouldered man, who was often found in the inn after closing the smithy, bellowing old songs and marching tunes from decades past. The other, the seller of the finished goods, was a pale, small and wiry built man and seemed distant to even the smith. Even so, the smith treated the younger man with a rough kindness, often teaching the younger man the basics of sword fighting. However, several of the younger children who had hidden once and watched, both men had become far quicker and skilful than any other person in the town, including old Kord, who had fought in the army of the Thantar many years ago.

The most surprising thing about the young man, John, was that he was blind. His eyes were a pure white and he was unable to walk far unaided. The strange part was that he was able to identify anyone who came near him, from such disparate identifiers as how they knocked on the smithy door to their scent, which according to him ranged from “sweet flowers to iron and corruption.” The lad could tell if someone had put down less coin than they needed to, simply by the different sounds the coins made, from the heavy thump of a royal, to the light pitter-patter of a penny. Both men moved oddly, the older man with the tight control of a warrior and the younger with oddly graceful movements, comparable only to the movements of a cat before it struck. The people of the town had got used to the pair though, as their families had lived in the town for years, each keeping the previous generation’s name.

The children of the moon and night had grown bolder in the surrounding areas over the past 200 years, yet the town had not been touched by their ravages. The old folks claimed that it was because of the king’s armies, one of which was stationed nearby, and the church claimed that it was all because of the church’s power through their gods. The two smiths smiled politely at both, but they knew the truth; both groups were scared to venture into the town, as the legends of what lurked within the town still lingered, the old tales of the prisoner, the one who killed the Creator Himself, and his warden, an ancient werewolf, gifted with greater power than any other, all to protect the world from this creature, this monster who would destroy the world if it could, all because of its hatred for all things.

Both men knew the grain of truth within the legend, but would not tell it to anyone close to them, as the telling of the tale would force the two of them to leave the town, and throughout their centuries within the town, they had grown to love the place, in their own ways.

One night, a dark and stormy night appropriately enough, a young man knocked on the door of the smithy, thinking that the smithy would be the best place to try to get a room, as the inn was full of the travellers who had to travel the hard path through the mountains in order to get to the capital city of Raek. The older man opened the door calling to his friend to get the lads things, gesturing the lad to move inside, and closer to the forge fire, in order to dry off. As the younger man gathered the things on the man’s pony, he noticed a sword and writing gear. Assuming the sword was for the road, he brought the writing gear inside, handing the man a pen, ink and some slightly damp paper.
“Where are you going on such a fine evening?” asked the older man, his voice reverberating through the man’s chest, like the warning growl of a wolf or large cat. The younger man laid his hand on the older man’s shoulder, calming him, though the writer could not see any anger on the older man’s face. “My name is Alecsander, I’m a writer, trying to make my way to Raek to make my fortune” he smiled at both men. “My name is Warden, and I’m the town smith” the older man said, smiling in return. The younger man shook his head slightly before replying “mine is Pris-” Warden nudged the younger man sharply, “I mean, Prism, John Prism. Also, would you mind not trying to confound me? It’s a very low trick to play, even for a warlock like you” Warden nodded in agreement, adding “it isn’t very good trying to lie to smiths, even a blind fellow like John” The young man appeared startled for a moment, then relaxed “I’m sorry, it’s become normal for me to do so, I barely realise that I’m doing it”
“no harm done, lad” Warden smiled.

Author's Note

Ignore grammar issues please, Please give me thoughts on how to improve dialogue and general advise

Reviews

[Jules]

To capture the audience's attention, it is good to start with some action and introduce the story's question early within the beginning of the book. Story's question: meaning your book will raise a question in the readers' minds (e.g. will he make it, will they meet their goal, etc.). Write more, and I can say more!

[TLK]

I agree. The first paragraph is unclear to me -- what does "accept" mean? Do they accept it in terms of "hey, let's live alongside these new people and sell them stuff and be happy together" (like selling fake blood to vampires in True Blood -- although only a liberal minority wants to accept the vampires easily); or is it more "we can't stop 'em, oh well" grudging acceptance?

You could show us this by having a were-kin being treated a particular way in the mountains, and remaking about how differently they were received elsewhere.